


Jagged Edges

by Catw00man



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: fma_slashfest, M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/pseuds/Catw00man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving on is never easy, but what happens when you just can't? This is such a tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jagged Edges

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a nice fic. There, I said it. But with how dark Ed can be at times it's one I could really see unfolding. Please enjoy my foray into angst. ;-)
> 
> This was written for the 2013 round of [fma-slashfest](http://fma-slashfest.livejournal.com/) on livejournal for the prompt: _Ed/Havoc (Any): I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday_

Heat. Skin slick with sweat. Muscles warring together for a common goal. Desire. Raw and untamed. Two bodies fusing and fighting for a single elusive moment. Lust. Carnal and wild. Blocking out the past, the present and everything else. Craving. Want and need. An overwhelming combination that destroys all else in its path. Nails. Teeth and grasping hands. Cling to the salvation of the moment and then the next and the next. 

There is nothing else but this.

It’s sex.

And Ed loses himself to it more than anyone else.

Ed’s flesh hands slide over his lover’s back, roughly tracing the hard, toned muscle he knows as well as his own. His legs are spread wide, his body a silent offering to the fiery lust consuming them. Grunts and groans are the only sounds they make. Words don’t have a place here. This is wild, raw, right on the edge of violent. It’s everything he has to have except for when he needs the most. It’s a physical battle that threatens to knock them both unconscious. It has before, and he’d like this to be one of those times.

His nails dig deep into muscular shoulders, wordlessly demanding more. It’s not enough. It’s never enough, but he won’t stop trying. He can’t. He grinds his hips upward as a cock as hard as automail steel nails him to the bed, but it’s not the same. It never is. Ed claws at the sweat slick skin, his ragged nails leaving long red trails down the strong, lean back on top of him. It’s a brutal touch, but it finally gives him what he needs. 

Vicious savagery that nearly tears him in two.

Ed throws his head back, his mouth open with a scream he’ll never voice as hands pin his arms by his head. The deep scratches he leaves never have been very welcome. Strong hands tighten like vices over his wrists and Ed revels in the ache it causes in both joints. The pulsing pain radiating down his arms along with the tingling in his hands only adds to the ruthlessness he craves. It’s took nearly a year to get him to go this far and now Ed doubts he can live without it. The bruises he’ll have tomorrow will only fuel the need for more.

White, hot pleasure fills him and he curses it as much as he craves it. This is why he wants the pain, the constant reminder that this isn’t and never will be right. Ed arches back, opening himself up even more and a low cry finally escapes his lips as his right hand is released. It’s nearly numb from the bruising grip but he still manages to reach down between them to take his own achingly, hard cock tight in his hand. His lover continues to pound into him without mercy and Ed jerks his hand over himself roughly, scratching his own tender skin with his nails as he brings himself closer to the edge. 

He almost loses it all when he makes the mistake of looking up.

Bright blue eyes instead of those the color of night pin him down and his hand falters for a second. This is why he usually keeps his eyes closed. He knows who he’s with, even without the reminder of sweaty blond hair plastered to his forehead and a much too chiseled jaw clenched tight with the physical strain. Ed knows his body completely, eyes closed or open, but sometimes, just for a moment….

Searing, painful pleasure shoots through him, electrifying his nerves with the same force as an automail port connection. Ed arches back on the bed uttering a low moan as his body shakes uncontrollably and it’s almost enough. Almost, but not quite. The edge of darkness is there, right on the edge of his vision and he reaches for it, strives for the blackness he needs but it slips right out of his grasp. He trembles hard as his lover’s body collapses on top of him and when lips find his for a brief connection he doesn’t turn away. How can he after all that?

The kiss is short, just a taste of sweat and smoke, and Ed grunts low when Havoc slowly pulls out of him. He’s sore, more than a little, but it’s exactly what he craves. It’s a pain that keeps him tied to the world and he’s not sure what he’d do without it anymore. Havoc slides off him, rolling toward his side of the bed and Ed does the same. It’s a sick routine they have, reaching for their vices in unison, and Ed hears the snick of a lighter as soon as his hand touches the whiskey bottle. Ed pours a full glass as smoke fills the room and he rolls out of bed, pulling on a loose pair of pants then grabbing his glass.

He needs a few moments to himself and he knows Havoc will give them to him.

Ed makes his way out onto the small second floor balcony and stares out at the southern hills. The night is warm, so much more humid than the Eastern dessert and it’s been a welcome change for them both. He didn’t expect Havoc to come with him after the transfer, but apparently he never cared much for the Ishvalan sand either and without a reason to stay any longer….

Ed shakes his head sharply and takes a long drink of his whiskey. He coughs when the biting liquid burns his throat and he shakes his head, slowly this time. He knows better than to gulp this stuff down. His hand tightens around the glass as memories attempt to surface but he stubbornly pushes them down. He can’t go there. He leans against the wrought iron balcony rail and brushes his long, tangled hair out of his face. The humid air clings to his damp skin and he remembers another time he visited this area. It was only for a few days but….

Strong pale skinned arms slide around his bare waist as lips brush his shoulder and for an instant it’s real. It’s too real. It’s so real he can almost lean back into those arms and know there’s still a future for him instead of this hell he’s been carrying on. Back then the world still made sense and there was a purpose to everything. Now nothing seems to matter other than blindly going where he’s told and losing himself to his vices every chance he gets. Ed takes another drink as his other hand curls tightly over the railing. If he could only have that peace, that certainty one more time he’d give up anything. No, he’d give up everything.

The sliding door behind him sounds followed by the pungent aroma of familiar cigarette smoke. Ed doesn’t turn around, but he feels his presence anyway. Havoc’s behind him and just to his left, probably leaning in the corner in his usual way. Smoke blows out over the dark hills and Ed’s not ready for this. But it’s better than remembering so he welcomes the company the same way he always does.

“I’m surprised you made it to your feet so soon.”

Ed knows what he’s saying, even without saying it. He’s known almost from the time this started that the violence he craves isn’t really what Havoc wants. But when he needs it, like tonight, he gives it to him all the same. To be honest this is the way it is more often than not. Who is he kidding? It’s always like this unless for some reason Havoc just can’t fuck him all to pieces. Those times are more difficult, too close to something remembered, but still…he needs it.

“You know me. Ever the resilient one.”

Except he’s not, and by now even Havoc knows it. For the last two years he’s hardly made it a day without hitting the bottle. He’s become as addicted to the strong elixir the same way Havoc’s hooked on his smokes. Some days it’s all he can do to stay dry while still on duty. Other days he just doesn’t care. Thankfully saving the whole damn country still seems to warrant him enough leeway to keep his commission. Havoc’s bailed him out of more self-inflicted shit storms than he’d like to count and there’s no way he’ll ever repay him. 

“Riiiight. My mistake.”

Ed hears there’s something more in Havoc’s voice and he really should ask what it is. But he’s too damn tired. Right now all he wants to do is drink his whiskey and pass out for the rest of the night. He doesn’t have anywhere to be in the morning so there’s really nothing to keep him from finishing the rest of the damn bottle. Alcohol tends to cancel out his dreams and it’s another reason he hardly ever goes without it. Now if only he can get Havoc to stay out of his way he can be blitzed within the hour. 

“Havoc, I’m really not in the mood to—”

“What are you doing, Ed?”

Ed closes his eyes and tightens his right hand over the railing again. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Ed hangs his head and silently refuses to turn around. This isn’t them. They don’t have these discussions. Not anymore. They got past this shit a long fucking time ago and he has no desire to go back. He doesn’t care why Havoc still can’t seem to trust being around women. He knows it has to do with the homunculus that nearly killed him, but Ed doesn’t care that he’s damaged. It doesn’t affect what they do. So why does Havoc care? It’s not like he doesn’t know anyway.

Ed squeezes his eyes shut even tighter as painful flashbulbs of the past go off in his mind. He still doesn’t know why Havoc was the one who found him passed out drunk on Roy’s grave, and he sure as hell doesn’t know why he took him home. He never even asked. Maybe it was just meant to be a kind gesture because he couldn’t have known what Ed would do. Sometimes he wonders if he still would have taken him in if he did. But with how little they knew each other there’s no way Havoc would have expected him to attack him sexually, blind with alcohol and grief. Ed has no doubt with how messed up he was that Havoc could’ve stopped him, but he’s always assumed Havoc needed this as much as Ed did. So why is he trying to talk about it now?

“Right now I’m trying to enjoy my whiskey.” Ed opens his eyes slowly and stares straight ahead. He doesn’t really see much, but then he’s not really looking. His glass is nearly empty and right now he’s trying to figure out how to refill it and get out of this damn conversation. “Havoc, if you don’t mind—”

“Actually, I do.” 

His words grate against Ed like broken glass and he needs to shut him up. He knocks back the rest of his drink then sets his glass on the tiny table to his right. He briefly glances at the over flowing ashtray beside the glass and knows other than smoking there’s one sure fire way to distract him. Ed relaxes his shoulders then deliberately leans forward, his forearms resting along the balcony rail.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t get enough earlier?” Ed widens his stance slightly and shifts on his feet as he moves his ass back and forth. “It’s damn deserted out here. I’m sure we could—”

Strong fingers dig into his right bicep and Ed nearly loses his footing when he’s sharply spun around. Vibrant blue eyes lock on him and Ed sobers slightly at the venom directed at him. Havoc doesn’t lose his temper often and Ed’s not sure if he’s ever seen this particular look on him before. 

“Is that all you think I want?!” His voice is forceful but low, almost like a growl and Ed’s eyes widen at the tightly controlled rage in every syllable. The balcony railing digs into his lower back as he tries to pull away but there’s nowhere to go. He has no doubt if he tried to get away Havoc wouldn’t allow it anyway and with the half a bottle of whiskey he’s already drank tonight he’s in no condition for a fight. Havoc, on the other hand, looks ready to knock him out. His right hand is fisted at his side and the bare muscles of his chest twitch with tension. His eyes blaze and Ed knows he wants him to say something…but he just doesn’t have anything to say.

Havoc’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to see inside him and Ed wonders if he knows there’s nothing left to see. He doesn’t know what he wants and the fuzziness in his mind isn’t helping him divine the answers. All he wanted to do was to drink his damn whiskey in peace and collapse in bed until sometime long after the sun comes up. Is that really too much to—

Strong hands cup his face and drag him forward into a hard kiss. Ed’s stunned, he didn’t see it coming, but after a moment it doesn’t matter. This he knows no matter how drunk he is. Ed pushes off the railing and attempts to get closer but for some reason Havoc isn’t pulling him against him. His hands are still holding Ed’s head, keeping him a small distance from the carnal heat Ed seeks, and that’s when things slowly begin to change.

It’s subtle at first, things are just a little less frantic, but soon enough Ed catches on to what he’s trying to do. The kiss becomes less commanding, less vicious and Ed instantly tries to pull back. But Havoc’s not having any of it, and before he knows it his tongue is tenderly moving through Ed’s mouth, caressing him in ways that just aren’t right. It’s not that they don’t ever kiss. They do all the time, but not like this. Not without sex. Not like this!

Ed shoves at his shoulders, pushing him so hard Havoc’s teeth sharply graze his lower lip as he stumbles backwards. Ed sucks in a lung full of air and shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. 

“What are you doing?” Ed shakes his head again then reaches out for Havoc’s hand. If he wants to do this they can always go another round. It’s not like they haven’t fucked each other into unconsciousness before. “Come on. Let’s go back to—”

Havoc jerks his hand out of his grasp and Ed can only stand by the door and look at him dumbly. What’s the problem? The look on Havoc’s face is unreadable and Ed frowns. He tries to reach out for him again but Havoc easily moves out of his grasp. “What’s the deal, Havoc? What’s with all the mixed signals? If you wanna go back to bed, stop playing games and let’s go.”

Havoc’s expression closes off and Ed doesn’t understand it. What’s the big deal? Ed feels a headache building behind his eyes and he either needs to get the rest of that whiskey or get Havoc back to bed. Right now he’s good with either but Havoc isn’t budging.

“I’ve put in for a transfer, Ed.” 

His voice is hollow, flat, and surprisingly emotionless. Ed stares back because at first the words don’t make any sense. They didn’t talk about moving. Not since they left the fucking desert. As far as he knew Havoc liked the South.

And then it hits him.

It’s not about transferring somewhere else and resettling together. It’s about transferring somewhere else to get away.

From _him_.

Ed blinks, surprise clearly spreading across his face, but Havoc’s expression doesn’t change. If anything he looks like he’s made of stone. When has he ever looked that way? Havoc’s eyes are always expressive be it with lust, anger or even occasional humor. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing those blue eyes reflect his emotions clearly. Somehow Ed must’ve always known that even if he never paid much attention. He had to because right now he hardly recognizes the cold-eyed man in front of him. 

“I wasn’t aware you were looking for one.” Ed does his best to keep his own voice even and somehow he manages to pull it off. Surprisingly, it’s not as hard as he expected. He leans back against the wall beside the door and stares back at his companion for the last two years. Is this really the end? Shouldn’t the very thought hurt more?

“You think this is what I wanted to do?” Havoc’s voice belies his stoic expression and sure enough even that facade starts to crack. The iciness melts in his eyes and his features become decidedly more pained. “Ed, what choice are you giving me?” Ed stares back at him blankly and Havoc’s shoulders slump. “Don’t you get it? I can’t keep living in the past forever.” Havoc runs his hand over his face and gives him a weary look. “I mean, if you’d just tell me that…if you’d just….”

His words drift off and Ed knows it’s his turn to speak, but the words don’t come. Honestly, nothing does. The only thing he feels is a little irritation at the ridiculous comparison. What could he possibly know about living in the past? He got wounded. He healed. What’s the big deal? He can’t possibly understand what he’s lost. Ed stares back at him and finally manages to force an answer. “Havoc, I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Havoc’s eyes widen slightly and for an instant Ed’s certain they turn glassy. But then it’s gone and he just looks tired. Ed can sympathize. At this point he feels like he’s on the edge of exhaustion as well. Havoc’s eyes lock on him once more and there’s a flash of something that might be anger, but then it’s gone as well as he shakes his head. He steps forward to Ed’s side to slide open the door and Ed sighs softly. At least now he should get a little peace for the night. 

The cool air from inside hits him and Ed turns to follow Havoc inside only to find Havoc’s stopped at the threshold with his hand on the glass door. He’s staring into the bedroom and Ed doesn’t miss the visible tension in his back and shoulders. His hand curls against the side of the glass door then slides down slowly to the handle.

“You know, at least he would call me by my name.”

The door slides shut behind him as soon as he passes through and Ed stares after him in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? Ed sees his reflection in the glass and he idly wonders just when he started to look so old. He pushes a few stray strands of hair out of his face then reaches for the door. Is Havoc really so upset at what he calls him? It’s not like he ever told him to call him Jean, did he? He can’t seem to remember. Why is it so import—

Wait.

Ed’s fingers tighten over the door handle when jagged pieces he didn’t even know were missing begin to fall into place. “Living in the past.” That’s what Havoc said. _He_ can’t keep “living in the past.” And the rest. “He” would call him by his name. There’s no question who _he_ has to be. He always wondered why Havoc showed up at his grave, why he took him in and gave him what he wanted. 

Is it possible…?

He never thought about it, but from the beginning he always knew there had been someone else. It was over, that much was clear, and for some reason he always assumed it must’ve been Hughes with how insane he was for vengeance. But Hughes wasn’t the only one he was so worried about, was he? Is it possible it was right in front of his face all this time?

Ed shakes his head sharply and jerks the door open. He storms inside and slides the door shut behind him without even looking to see if it latches. He glances around to find the bedroom empty and he walks straight to his bedside table. The cool whiskey bottle can’t get into his hand fast enough and he turns it up to drink directly from it. The amber liquid sears a burning trail into his chest but he doesn’t care as he gulps down as much as he can. He doesn’t want to think. He can’t. He can’t.

It was all right there.

Why didn’t he see?

But it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Even if there was something it hardly matters now and it proves his point completely. He knows now what Havoc—what _Jean_ —wanted from him. He wanted him to move on. He wanted him to give up his past for a future he doesn’t want. He wanted him to turn his back on his yesterdays and that’s something he just won’t do. He used to think they were the same, but now it’s obvious how wrong he was. He thought Havoc didn’t understand, but if Ed’s right he should understand better than anyone in the world.

But he doesn’t. If he did there’s no way he’d be asking Ed to let go. 

Ed takes another deep pull from the bottle then slides down onto the bed. The sheets are still tangled from earlier but at least they’re no longer damp. Ed leans back against the wall and sets the bottle in his lap. There’s not much left but with enough luck it’ll be enough. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want it. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and concrit are always loved and appreciated! ;-)


End file.
